‘Wouldn’t it be better to let the media know that you’ll make a statement, rather than have a formal press conference?’ Eva suggested. ‘And we can do it outside. They’ll be less inclined to hang around asking questions in the cold,’ she added.

Úrsúla laughed and nodded her agreement. Eva had a talent for brilliant ideas.

‘Then I’d like you to take the formal route and request a meeting with the prime minister,’ Úrsúla said. ‘I’ve been trying to reach him on his mobile all weekend and he won’t pick up.’

This had worried her, but she had held on to the thought that he was busy with something else, and not intentionally blanking her. She needed to speak to him, both to explain the furore in the press and to discuss the South Coast Highway. She wanted to suggest the option of finding another source of financing, instead of these foreign funds that were owned by Ingimar the Terrorist.

‘Would you make sure there’s space in the schedule this week for me to show my face in parliament every day, and can you knock up a draft of an article about the immigration situation that I can finish off?’

‘Is that it?’ Eva asked, getting to her feet. She looked Úrsúla up and down for a moment. ‘I’ll get something for you to wear before you meet the hacks,’ she added.

‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ Úrsúla asked. ‘You chose this blouse.’

‘A shirt with a collar is too blokey,’ Eva said. ‘This time you need to appear more feminine, gentler. But not too lightweight. It’s not a problem. I’ll fix it.’

With a dazzling smile, she was gone. The last week had convinced Úrsúla that choosing Eva had been absolutely right. She 159worked with the smooth efficiency of a machine, plus she was fun to be around.

With a few minutes before the next meeting, Úrsúla helped herself to an espresso from the machine Eva had installed in the corner and scrolled through the contacts in her phone to find Rúnar, the former minister of the interior. She hardly knew him, but she’d attended his classes for a semester at university. He had been a good teacher. He was intelligent and had a particular talent for seeing things from an external viewpoint, giving him the big picture.

‘I’ve been thinking of you, my dear,’ Rúnar said as he answered the phone.

‘Likewise,’ Úrsúla replied. ‘I haven’t wanted to disturb you, what with you being unwell. I hope I’m not intruding now.’

She couldn’t bring herself to mention what the prime minister had said about Rúnar’s health issues; that in reality there was nothing at all wrong with him beyond losing his nerve for the job.

‘That’s all right,’ Rúnar said. ‘I started to feel better the moment I left the ministry behind me.’

He laughed hoarsely.

‘I’d like to ask for your advice on this South Coast Highway,’ she said.

‘Hmm. I only wish I could give you some. What does the PM have to say about it?’